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I Spent The Summer With My Husband And Didn’t Kill Him

My husband retired from the Navy over the summer and was at home. He was waiting for his new job to start but with all the paperwork and signatures they needed, he was home for two damn months. I thought he would start his new job a few weeks after he retired but nope. I would ask him if he had heard anything about it nearly everyday.

The first week was really nice. We did things like go to the farmer’s market, went to the park, went to lunch, blah, blah, blah. After all these years, I actually convinced him to go to the nail salon with me and he actually got a pedicure. He didn’t say anything afterwards, but we all know he liked it. Then, we closed on our new house and moved in. Things went pretty smoothly until the last few weeks. I wanted to get back into my routine. He started making me crazy.

When I would ask him if he heard anything and he said no, in my mind, I threw a toddler fit. The kind where you try to pick a toddler up but they go limp and are like a slippery noodle and then they throw their head back, red faced and crying while speaking gibberish. Yeah, I was like that.

And then finally, he had news that he was starting work two weeks from then. YES! I will finally have the damn house to myself!

The husband finally started work a few weeks ago and the hummingbird started school on Tuesday. I can now drink my coffee in peace and more importantly, while it’s hot.

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The Reluctant Reader


I’ve loved reading as soon as I learned to. I gobble up books but also have this book hangover I go through after each book I read. It can be hard to keep up with my reading with a kid in the house who always wants my attention. I naturally assumed since I loved to read, my dna would make her feel the same.

Oh, how wrong I was. Asking her to read and having her actually do it is like pulling teeth. Once she gets started reading, she’ll sometimes get into it. Or, if I suggest reading to her, she whines nooooooo. I love reading her the Ramona Quimby books and she’ll independently read the Princess Posey books which I highly suggest since oh my god she actually reads them, thank you sweet baby jeebus, but again, getting her started up in reading is the biggest pain in the ass.

Here are the stages I’ve gone through with my reluctant reader.

Stage one: You need to read for ten minutes. Yes. Yes. No, you’re not going to see if Samantha is home. You’re going to read. Yes. Yes! Please go and read. Please? Just read. 10 minutes. That’s all I ask. Read. Read now. I got you several different books to choose from at the library today. Maybe you just haven’t found the books that you find interesting yet. So, please go read. Yes! Read! Go!

Stage two: Would you like me to read to you? Why not? Well, let’s have you read to me. Why not? Please? Let’s just sit down and you can read to me for only 10 minutes. You need to ready every day. Yes, you do. Yes. Please read now. Why not, Well, I’m sorry that you have a scratch on your ankle but that doesn’t mean you can’t read. No, it doesn’t. No, it doesn’t. Please, hummingbird. Just read to me for five minutes then. Five minutes! No, it’s not that long. Okay, how about this. You can have a cookie after dinner. Okay, ice cream then. Yes, you can have chocolate sauce but then you have to read for ten minutes. You don’t want chocolate sauce then? Oh, you do. Then, yes, read for 10 minutes. Please just read now. Please!

Stage three: Okay, it’s time to read. We have two hours before dinner. Why don’t read for 20 minutes to yourself while I read too. Why not? No, you can’t watch PAW Patrol. It’s time to read. No. There’s no PAW Patrol while we read. The television is going off. There. Please read. Whichever book you want. There must be something you’d like to read in our library book bag. You picked out all the books. Please, pick something and read. Then, I’ll pick. Here. Okay, then you pick something now. Please, hummingbird. That looks good. Okay, you have twently minutes. No, I said for twenty minutes. Not ten. Twenty. Hummingbird, it’s only for twenty minutes. I’m not asking you to jump off a cliff. Twenty minutes and then you’ll be done for the day. Okay, how about if you read for twenty minutes and you can watch PAW Patrol. No. You can’t watch two. Just one for twenty minutes of reading. Fine, thirty minutes of reading and then you can watch two PAW Patrol’s. No, you can’t watch three. Only two if you read for thirty minutes. Okay. Thank you.

Stage four: Read! Yes! Now! Please, read now! I don’t care if you don’t want to. READ!

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Let’s Go To The Vet

That’s right… it’s time for the vet. Let’s chase down our two cats. Ooops, almost had Penny. There she goes again. We’ll, I’ll let my husband grab her. There’s sweet, bigilicious Maisy lying on the couch with no clue about what’s going to happen soon.

And, both cats are in their carriers. I’m lint rolling my shirt because of all the cat hair and accidentally swipe my face with my hand to get off the sweat from my forhead.

Needless to say, sweat and cat hair is an awful combo. It looks like I have to shave my forehead now.

So, into the car we go. Maisy is all chill but Penny, well, Penny wants to sing us a song.


Penny, it’s okay.


Pennnny, you’re okay. You’ll be just fine.


Okay, Penny, we get your point.


Meow, meow, meow, Penny. I know, but it will be over soon.

10 minutes of torture Meow’s later….

We’re here, kitties!


We’re standing in the lobby and Penny finally quiets. Hallefuckinglujah!

And, now were in the check up room.


Oh my fucking god. Make it stop.


Hey, Penny. It’s okay.

A dog barks out side the room.

Penny does her sliding across the floor cartoon animal run.

I laugh my ass off.

Now, it’s time for sniffing, and more sniffing, and more sniffing….

But wait. Penny has more to say. MEEEEOOOOWWWWAAAA!

I wonder if they have cat xanax?

The assistant comes in with a thermometer. Oh, joy! The cats will LOVE this.


Let’s do Penny first. I watch as she lies there anxiously as my husband and I talk calmly to her.

And, boom! You don’t have to see it go in to know the thermometer is up her butt. Penny’s not quite sure about this. I sure as hell wouldn’t be either.

Now, Maisy’s turn. The chill cat will be chill while getting her temp.

Hey, Maisy. You’re doing so good. And, up the butt. Grrrrrrr! Hissssss!

Whoa, she’s the chill cat. Where did that come from? She looks at me like mom, if you were poked with that up your ass, you’d hiss too. Touche, Maisy. Touche.

And now, we wait for the vet.

Since both cats have been violated with the thermometer, it’s time to get down to cleaning themselves. But, Penny can’t let us forget she’s not happy so MEEEOOOWWWWAAA!

They hear someone outside the door and instead of running away from the door, they run to it. It’s vet time.

Penny and Maisy have two shots each but neither is up the butt so we should be good.

Finally finished. I’m covered with so much cat fur that I would’t be surprised if by wiping my mouth off to get the cat hair from my lips, I would look like I grew a beard. There’s also little chunks of fur on my shirt and shorts. I look at my husband and he has cat fur hanging from his nose. I start trying to take it off but he thinks I’m trying to pick his nose. Hey dude, I love you and everything but I would never pick your nose.

Anyway, it could be worse. It’s not like I’m putting a thermometer up his ass.

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Our Former Landlord Is Psycho

Warning… ranty words ahead.

Now that we finally bought a house after years of moving all over for the Navy, I thought we would finally be done with dealing with the worst landlord we’ve ever had at our last house.

But nope. This woman is a c u n t mobile. And, she’s a lawyer which is why she can find the loopholes to fuck us over. I know there’s much worse landlord stories than what we’ve gone through. My cousin, her husband and kids are dealing with a woman who puts locks on their shed and throws their little girl’s stuff all over the yard that they had stored away.

The rental market here sucks ass and last year, we only found one somewhat suitable property. It was overpriced and dumpy but it was between that or moving out an hour from where we were living. The house was so overpriced in rent by about 600 dollars but we were really screwed with the lack of options. We also decided not to buy back then because we were still planning on moving back to California or Seattle.

So, we rented from Ms. C u n t Mobile because we didn’t have any other options. From the second day we lived there and on, it was such a pain in the ass. Not only was the value of the house much lower while the landlord jacked up the price, there were also red flags with signing the lease.

She added in that if the stackable washer and dryer were to break, she wouldn’t buy a new one for the house while we were still there.

What I didn’t know was that the washer/dryer was a piece of shit that had the most disgusting smell. Something I wasn’t able to find out until we moved in. Blah, blah, blah, I ended up cleaning out black sludge from the rim of the washer because it hadn’t been taken care of. Not long after, guess what? Why, of course. The washer broke. Luckily we had our own but it wasn’t stackable and there was only enough space for a stackable one so the hubby had to build some contraption were it could fit in the small bathroom.

Ms. C u n t Mobile didn’t give a shit and didn’t even offer to haul it away. We had to have some friends move it down to the basement where it stunk everything up down there.

The landlord would also refuse to do any pest control. We had spiders all over and as much as my husband sprayed. It didn’t make a dent in them. One night while making my daughter’s lunch, I felt something drop on my arm from the ceiling and it was a fucking spider.

Oh my fucking god. After that, every time I made her lunch, I would be looking up at the ceiling every few seconds.

Another issue was the carpet. Not only was it old and falling apart, it was filthy. She kept insisting it was cleaned prior to us moving in but if that was the case, I wouldn’t have the bottom of my feet turn brown from the dirt on the carpet by the end of the day.

There’s lots more that’s petty bullshit but what we’re currently dealing with is our deposit checks. One is for our security deposit and the other is because we paid up until July 15th to give us more time to find a home but were completely moved out on the 5th.

Since we’re no strangers to moving so much, we calculate that since we moved out on the 5th, she would have until August 5th to pay us. But she insisted that since we wanted to extend our stay until the 15th, even though we didn’t stay that long and never had a written agreement, that she had until August 15th to pay us what amount to $2,500. We said fine like we have several times prior because she’s a psycho and we didn’t want to piss her off which would make bigger issues with her.

The hubby and I joked that just to be a bitch, she probably would even send the check until it was postmarked on the 15th, even though I felt it was due 10 days earlier.

Ms. C u n t y Mc Cuntster didn’t send the check until the 17th and it arrived to us on the 18th. That seemed like such a bitch move especially since she knew we were waiting for that chunk of cash.

The next day, the hubby and I got to Target for some things when out of nowhere he says he has to go to the car to make a phone call. I just assumed it was a work thing but he eventually comes back in while fuming. My husband doesn’t fume. He rarely gets anger and he’s as cool as a cucumber which can help tame my high anxiety.

He told me that Psycho had really pissed him off. My stomach sank and I couldn’t imagine what it could be. I had been telling him that I’ve been having a gut feeling she isn’t going to make this move out easy on us and will try and fuck us in some way.

And she sure did! She had emailed my husband and said while she was checking up on the utilities to see that they were all paid up (wtf? I’ve never had a landlord do that) and she found that morning that we have a sewer bill due for $71.40 and she will reissue our checks for the deposit and rent only after we show her proof that the bill is paid. She also said she was going to take the stop payment charges out of our money.

One… it we owe money on a bill, it was a complete oversight on our part and told her we accept that. We did find out that we owed it and paid for it promptly. We had just never received a bill. We also showed her proof of the payment but she’s been ignoring us and won’t answer her phone whenever we call.

Two… what the fuck, lady? She’s putting a stop payment on both checks when this bill has nothing to do with her. She wants proof that we pay it? And she wants confirmation from the sewer department after it’s paid by having someone from the department confirm it to her?

It’s pretty ironic that it’s the sewer department since she’s a piece of shit. Thankfully, my husband found that with Maine law, the landlord can’t keep any portion of the security deposit if it’s anytime after the date it was due, which was the 15th. We got it three days later. So, she fucked herself there.

Also, even though it’s in her lease about this very issue, the law says it overrides what the leaser says.

Either way, she finally fucked up but we haven’t heard from her since Friday evening. The law also states she has to give us the checks within 7 days or else she has to pay us double the amount she owes us. Go, Maine law! It seems so easy peasy. Just write a new check and send it out ASAP, or reverse the stop payment on the security deposit check.

But, I have a feeling with her being a lawyer, she’s going to fuck with us some more first since she’s been using so many loopholes for everything that she’s been fucking us over with this past year.

All I know is I actually had a celebration with tequila once we finally received those checks because it meant we never have to deal with the psycho again. But now, we’re still tied to her by this money.

What a bitch.

Any landlord from hell stories?

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More Cowbell


My husband needs to wear a cowbell. He’s the type of person who just sneaks up on to you out of thin air. He appears out of nowhere. Most of the time I want to tie a cowbell around his neck so I can keep track of him.

Just today, I was in the bedroom and heard the backyard door shut. It seems like not even a minute later, I start walking out of the bedroom when I see something zoom out of the corner of my eye. I’ve been a bit jumpy since I’m reading this book, and when I saw a blurred figure getting closer to me, I screamed my ass off.

He stood there looking at me like I was a crazy person and I told him he’s going to give me a fucking heart attack if he keeps this going. He’s also excellent at disappearing out of nowhere. On our second to last move, he was standing right next to me as he was talking with one of the movers.

And then, BAM, the mover asked a question, I turn to my husband, and he’s not fucking there. It’s like he has the speed of Superman. The hummingbird and I spend part of each night calling for him when she’s getting ready for bed. She’ll be calling DAD! DAD! DAAAAAAD?! while internally I’ll be thinking “What the fuckity fuck???? Where in the fuck did he fucking go???!”

My husband reminds me of this character in a movie called Dear God with Grep Kinnear. It’s a pretty cheesy but cute movie. The quick version is he’s a con artist, has to get a proper job after being arrested, works at the post office, and starts answering letters from people who write to god. It’s not religious-y though. Let’s say ‘religious-y is an actual word.

Anyway, totally getting off track. Greg Kinnear’s boss, played by the always awesome Hector Elizondo, pops up from time to time and whenever Greg’s character turns to ask him a question, Hector is gone in a flash.

Hector’s role completely encompasses my husband. He’s Flash Gordon. It can be rather annoying but we joke about it even though it irritates me to no end. I’m actually getting him a cowbell for Christmas as a joke.

I already know I’ll quickly regret that decision because not only will my husband walk around with it to annoy me, the hummingbird will get a hold of it and drive me insane but we’re getting her a drum set for Christmas so I figured it will be a good combo.

I’m a glutton for punishment….

Willingly getting a drum set for my 7 year-old. But the truth is, I want to learn to play too.

Then I can say, “Hubby, take it away. More cowbell!”

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Orange Gatorade Is Considered A Fruit


I’ve been feeling lazy uninspired in the kitchen lately, plus we’ve been going at full speed ahead with the hummingbird’s extracurricular activities. She recently auditioned for a children’s play and rehearsals are three nights a week. Plus, there’s gymnastics and to make things even more oh my god I’m going to pull my hair out crazy, she has her bi-weekly girl scout meetings.

Dinner has been pretty craptacular lately since I don’t have much time to cook and I’m tired from being a taxi driver all week. I still try to give the bird plenty of fruits and veggies but then there’s the whole thing of not being able to have time to go to the store and finding in the fruit and veggie bins that the cucumbers I was going to give my kid has liquified in the bag or the blueberries have turned to mush.

As we were eating dinner one night at the end of the week, I was wiped out and just plain being lazy with dinner. I made chicken strips and french fries and thought about microwaving a veggie. Yes, just thought about it but said fuck it because we’d have to wait five more minutes for dinner and I was just over the day. I spaced out, the oven timer beeped, and I served up dinner.

That’s when I realized I didn’t make any veggies and thought about at least getting up and grabbing a handful of grapes for her but my ass wasn’t moving out of the chair. Because lazy. And exhausted. And holy fuck, I don’t know how long I’m going to make it through these rehearsals three nights a week for the next two months.

The bird didn’t care either way or notice but I got mom guilt because OH MY STARS, I’M NOT GIVING MY CHILD A BALANCED MEAL. I felt like all the sanctimonious mommies knew there was a mom out there who was taking the easy way out and they were going to come after me with pitchforks and torches. I don’t know why I get the guilt, especially when I let her have junk food that I said I’d never let her have before I became a mom.

As I was staring at her plate, I was giving myself the mom guilt trip and was looking over her plate. That’s when I thought to myself “We’ll she is having ketchup so, check, there’s the veggie. But the fruit, omg, the fruit?!! I can’t take this mom guilt so she needs a fruit of some kind!!!

While I was mom guilting myself to death over something so lame that I don’t normally trip out about, I eyed her glass. She was drinking gatorade, which was left over from earlier that day. And it was orange flavored.

So, that’s when I told my mom guilt trip to chill the fuck out, deduced that orange gatorade qualifies as a fruit, and finished my dinner in peace and mom guilt free.

*A Legend

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Yes, I Will Pick Your Nose And Other Gross Stuff Parents Do

I have a very weak stomach. Very weak. My 6 year-old was recently telling me about a girl who threw up in her class that day and she got into details. I was starting to gag and dry heave while begging her to stop. But then I started thinking of all the gross crap I’ve done as a parent that I’ve done so often, I don’t even flinch anymore.

5. I never would have thought I’d do this before I became a mom but picking my kid’s nose doesn’t phase me. In the last few years, she’s capable of blowing her nose but I remember times she would have a snotty nose and I would just dig right in without a tissue.

4. Getting baby shit on your face is something I thought was only in sitcoms but it does happen. The first time, I gagged and wiped it off immediately. The other times because apparently I really suck at changing diapers, I didn’t give a shit about shit.

3. There’s nothing more glorious than holding your baby and having them puke down your back. It’s not until later that day you realize where that nasty smell is coming from.

2. Diaper blowout that go up the back. How does this happens? I’m amazed that something so small can shoot shit from their but all the way up to their back.

1. I can’t even clean up the hairballs from my two cats but don’t give it a second thought when catching my child’s vomit in my hands.

What’s the grossest thing you’ve had to do as a parent?


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